


I Can Picture It After All These Days

by crossroadswrite



Series: Here We Are Again [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Pining Derek Hale, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Derek Hale Are The Same Age, Still Werewolves, boys being cute and blushy and der is an idiot but that's okay, i now have a cavity, tooth rotting fluff bless it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s not nervous. He’s done this a thousand times.</p>
<p>He just has to knock on the door, greet Stiles and somehow try to convince him to take his sorry ass back so they can date and live happily ever after.</p>
<p>Derek shifts a little on the porch, shaking out his arm like he’s loosening his muscles for a fight.</p>
<p>He can do this. He can totally do this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Picture It After All These Days

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a dirty liar who lies about dates, NEVER trust me when i say i'm gonna post something in a certain date because it's lies all liiiiiieeeeessssss

Derek’s not nervous. He’s done this a thousand times.

He just has to knock on the door, greet Stiles and somehow try to convince him to take his sorry ass back so they can date and live happily ever after.

Derek shifts a little on the porch, shaking out his arm like he’s loosening his muscles for a fight.

He can do this. He can _totally_ do this.

_Ohgod_ he’s going to die. Stiles is going to realize he’s not worth it and get a better boyfriend. One that can grow a full beard at nineteen like Derek hasn’t quite managed to.

The door opens and he almost jumps out of his skin, quickly berating himself because he is a _werewolf_ goddamnit. He should’ve heard that.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or actually come in, son?” the Sheriff asks, not looking particularly impressed with Derek’s attitude.

“John, let the boy be. He’s _nervous_ , it’s cute,” Claudia pokes her head over the Sheriff’s shoulder and smiles at Derek, looking thoroughly amused which is somehow even _worse_ than the Sheriff looking unimpressed.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Stilinski,” he mumbles, looking away for a second to gather courage. “Is Stiles here?”

“He’s playing games with Scott.”

“Oh,” he deflates. “I- yeah, of course he is. Um, I’ll come back tomorrow-“

Claudia ducks under her husband’s arm and grabs Derek’s arm, tugging him through the door.

“Oh no, you don’t. I have _not_ been dealing with a sad son for over a year to deal with a disappointed son because you couldn’t have the balls to say hello,” she informs him. “Now man up and go say hi to him. Give him the pretty flowers you’re carrying.”

Derek glances down at the bouquet he begged Uncle Michael to help him make and blushes a little. “Oh, um. These are for you, actually,” he holds them out. “Sorry for being an idiot and hurting your son.”

Claudia takes the flowers and smiles so brightly Derek can’t help but feel his lips tugging upwards as well. She’s just that kind of person.

“You’re just too sweet.”

Derek blushes and scrubs at his cheek like that’ll help wipe the flush away.

“Can I go see Stiles now?”

“Sure, you know where his bedroom is, right?”

He nods quickly and starts up the stairs, filled with nervous energy and anticipation.

_“-isn’t a good idea,”_ he hears Scott’s familiar voice argue, accompanied by the familiar jamming of controller buttons.

_“He’s sorry, Scott.”_

_“Oh great. He’s_ sorry _. That makes it all better, doesn’t it. Does Lydia know about this? Because if not she’s going to kick your ass._ ”

Derek freezes in front of the door.

_“Lydia doesn’t get an opinion in my love life. Have you seen the mess that is hers? Oh right, is she still mad at Jackson?”_

_“I think she’s rebounding with some guy.”_

_“See. No opinion. And you don’t get an opinion either Mr. I’ll-fall-in-love-with-any-girl-that-dimples-at-me-and-smells-like-some-type-of-berry.”_

Derek snorts and raises his hand to knock even though maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe Stiles will never take him back and maybe even if he does they’ll crash and burn but it’ll be their decision. It’ll be Stiles’ decision.

Derek can be an idiot but he’s not an idiot to the point of doing the same mistake twice.

He knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Stiles shouts.

Derek slowly turns the knob and peeks inside, unwilling to step in the room with Scott judgmentally judging him from one of the beanbags on the floor.

“Hi.”

Stiles stops the game and _wow okay_ Derek might have a chance yet if Stiles stops his game for him.

“Hey! You came!” Stiles turns to him, smiling with his eyes and relief sighing out of his words.

Derek fiddles with the doorknob and waves his hand a little awkwardly.

Scott glares at him.

“Derek,” he says shortly, like this is the thrilling final confrontation between two super spies and they must state their names so the audience understands how suspenseful this is.

“Scott,” he throws back, raising one eyebrow.

“Stiles!” Stiles says, rolling his eyes at both of them. “Now that we’ve all established our first names, Derek come in, sit down. Let’s shoot some,” he glances at the screen and squints. “Whatever the hell that is supposed to be.”

He hovers by the door for a minute before stepping into the room and sitting on Stiles’ other side at a respectable distance.

What is even the correct distance to seat from you ex-future-boyfriend? Someone give him a ruler and tell him how many centimeters say I want to kiss you but I also want to give you your space. And probably get married and adopt a bunny with you.

“Let’s take out our violent urges on virtual monsters before I have to leave with my parents. Cool?” Stiles says cheerily.

“Whatever you want, buddy,” Scott says and side-eyes Derek.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Derek says, ignoring Scott and looking over at Stiles with probably an idiotic face.

He still can’t quite believe he gets this again.

Something in him starts settling, right at the bottom of his ribcage.

They play the game for about an hour, passing the remote around and trash talking each other.

Well, Stiles trash talks everyone and Scott mostly trash talks Derek and Derek replies by cursing at himself because out of the three of them he’s the worse at games. He has no idea why.

“Wow, you suck,” Stiles laughs.

Derek opens his mouth to say, “Only if you ask nicely” but shuts it with a click because they’re not there yet and that’s fine.

Stiles is looking at him with a tilt of his lips, eyes a little crinkled at the corners like he knew exactly what Derek was about to say.

“Stiles, baby, we need to go,” Claudia calls and Stiles’ head snaps towards the door.

“Coming!” he shouts back.

Derek sets the remote down next to the TV and gets up, stretching up to unstiffen his muscles.

He feels like going for a run. There’s a kind of jittery energy running through his nerve endings and it feels _thrilling_. He feels like he should go chase something.

He groans when his bones pop and yawns a little.

When Derek looks down at Stiles he’s looking at him, mouth slightly parted and wow okay. That is, that is a nice scent right there. He had forgotten that scent. A little spice to the sweetness of Stiles’. A little arousal, okay.

Derek offers Stiles is hand. “Need a little help?” he smirks.

Stiles rolls his eyes but takes his hand, fingers carefully curling around Derek’s palm.

Derek pulls him up and maybe overshoots it a little bit and Stiles stumbles against his chest.

“Sorry,” he says, one hand on his waist to keep him upright and the other still holding his hand.

“Stiles, didn’t you hear your mom?” Scott calls and Derek takes a quick step back.

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, sure. Chill, Scotty, he’s not going to throw me over his shoulder and carry me to his mancave to have his wicked way with me.”

Scott sets his jaw and squints at Derek like he thinks he _might._

Derek raises an eyebrow and hopes Scott can realize how unimpressed with him he is right now.

“I should go home, anyway,” he says and backs up another step towards the window.

“Sure.”

“Hey, Stiles. I’m sorry. Do you want to go on a date?”

Stiles smiles and it’s a slow thing. It unfurls his lips delicately and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“No.”

Derek smiles because okay.

“Hey, Derek. See you tomorrow?”

He nods, slow and sure. “See you tomorrow.”

Scott is still looking at him and okay, Derek isn’t a nice person, so he just kind of lets himself fall through the window, landing neatly on his feet and hears, pleased, when Scott shouts in alarm and rushes to the window.

He gives him a little two finger salute and a smirk and walks away.

_“What the fuck is wrong with your not-boyfriend, Stiles! What an asshole.”_

He might have a little skip in his step when he hears Stiles laughing so hard he’s probably on the floor.

Derek shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks away, his hands catching a slip of paper, he had forgotten.

Well, there’s always tomorrow.

«»

Derek gets home to a family that is very studiously pretending they don’t care.

“That magazine is upside down Lex,” he tells his aunt, snorting when she curses and throws it on a pile on the coffee table.

Someone really needs to tell Daniel to stop ordering house décor magazines. Once they piled them up and the little tower was as tall as Thomas and Thomas is pretty tall for an eight year old.

“Fuck this, how did it go! Tell us, Der. We’re _dying_ here.”

He shrugs a little, calmly walks towards the back door.

“He said no.”

“Oh, Derek I’m so-“

Derek flicks Cora’s ear and Malia’s nose as he passes. “Wanna go for a run, tiny ones?”

“Tiny is your dick!” Malia shouts and vaults over the kitchen window.

Derek laughs and runs after her, Cora hot on his heels, trying to trip him up.

“Wait- didn’t he say no? I don’t-“

“Let them be Lexie, I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Ugh, _youths_.”

“You’re a youth, Lexie.”

“Excuse you I am twenty nine. Ohgod. Derek! Derek I’m running with you.”

Derek laughs and crouches down, calling his little sister and cousin over. “First one to trip up old Aunt Lexie can get the cookie jar. All of it.”

“Aunt Olivia just filled it,” Cora whispers. “She’s gonna be pissed.”

Malia grins. “Let’s do it!”

(Malia and Cora join evil forces and win. Derek can’t be too upset about it when he sees Aunt Lexie growling with leaves tangled up in her hair.)

«»

He’s maybe a bit overeager.

It’s eight in the morning and he finds himself in the Stilinski doorway, hand poised to knock before he remembers it’s _early_ and Stiles won’t be up before the numbers on the clock hit double digits.

God, he’s pathetic.

Derek slowly lowers his hand and fully intends to turn tail and go back home or to a coffee shop or _something_ when the door opens and the Sheriff blinks at him, mildly surprised.

“Derek,” he says evenly. “What you’re doing here? It’s pretty early.”

“I-“ he looks down and focuses on toeing at little fissure in the porch. “Didn’t check the time.”

When he looks up the Sheriff has a tiny indulgent quirk to his lips and is shaking his head almost fondly.

“Well, Claudia is up, so if you want to come in and hang out until Stiles is awake that would be fine.”

“Oh, um, that’s- I was just going to-“

“Darling, who’s at the door?” Claudia pokes her head over her husband’s shoulder and then beams when she sees Derek. “Oh it’s Derek. Come in, I’m about to make a mess of the kitchen because my husband has left me all alone to fend for myself,” she sighs dramatically. “A strapping young man is exactly what I need.”

“I-“ he looks nervously at the Sheriff and has half a mind to step back and throw some excuse over his shoulder but he takes too long and Claudia grabs him by the arm and tugs him inside the house.

“Okay, I guess,” he mumbles even as he’s herded towards the kitchen and sat on a stool.

The front door closes, but unfortunately Derek can still hear the Sheriff laughing to himself on his way to his cruiser.

“So,” she says, one hand on her hip and surveying the mess of ingredients on the kitchen counter. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Whatever’s fine. I can help,” he volunteers.

Claudia nods. “I’m cooking so Stiles will be on clean up duty.” She grins widely. “So what’s the messiest thing we can make?”

They make cookies and brownies from scratch and by the end there’s a thin layer of flour covering the entire kitchen.

Derek’s pretty sure he has some on his hair and that there’s butter in his eyebrows _somehow_.

“I’m trying to win your son back, not get him to hate me,” he says belatedly, staring at the oven as the brownies bake slowly.

They’re both sitting on the floor looking at it like it’s a prime time television show. He doesn’t really know why or how they ended up like this but it feels nice. Homey. Like before but different too.

“He couldn’t hate you,” Claudia tells him and bumps their shoulders together. “He tried for a while. There were days he would pile everything he owned that you gave him and take it out back with a lighter in his hand and then he’d bring it right back inside and put everything in place.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Hmm, still not quite good enough,” Stiles’ voice comes scratchy and sleep heavy. “What’re you doing?”

“Watching brownies bake,” Claudia announces, patting the seat next to her, which Stiles takes happily, proceeding to lean all of his weight against his mother’s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against it like a tired cat.

 “Why are we doing this?”

“Because,” Claudia says.

“Because your family is a bunch of weirdos like mine,” Derek finishes and gets elbowed in the ribs by Ms. Stilinski who’s laughing.

Stiles snorts. “Yeah. True that.”

Claudia huffs a little but it’s amused and light and okay. “I’d say we are a little less weird than the werewolves pretending to be human.”

Derek jerks so hard he smacks his head on the table he’s sitting next to, grunting in pain.

“Ow,” he says because it’s always an appropriate thing to say when one hurts himself.

He rubs at his head and looks up to see Stiles on his knees body poised to stretch towards Derek before he sits back down next to his mother.

“Idiot,” he mutters.

Derek huffs and puffs. “Does everyone in your family know my family are werewolves?”

“Well, yeah.”

Claudia nods in agreement. “I had to have an official meeting with your mother when I moved in.” She waves a hand around and twists her nose. “Sparks can attract all kind of trouble, not many werewolves would let one stay in their territory.”

“You’re sparks?”

Seriously he wants refund for the past year. He _demands_ a do-over.

Stiles snorts derisively. “Not anymore.”

Claudia pulls an arm over her son’s shoulder and cuddles him against her side. “Sparks sometimes get magic sickness,” she says slowly. “It’s-“

“Fatal. Your brain melts in your head.”

“I had it, the beginnings of it when Stiles was young. He didn’t really know what he was doing but sparks, we’re all about belief and he believed so hard that he could make me good he burned his spark out.”

“How- how do you catch it?”

Because what if it’s hereditary, what if Stiles _gets it_ if it takes burning a spark out to cure it then he could-

“No one really knows. It’s just- a thing,” Claudia shrugs. “It’s not like there are scientists out there studying magic sickness like there are studying cancer.”

“I can’t get it,” Stiles peeks over at Derek, hair a mess and eyes kind. “Stop worrying, you doofus. I burned it out, non-magic beings can’t catch magic sicknesses like that.”

The next breath Derek takes in comes a little easier.

“Alright,” he says and goes back to watching the oven.

“Hey, Stiles,” he says. “Do you want to go on a date?”

“Nope.”

“Alright.”

«»

“Do I smell brownies?” Laura jumps from the second story window leading to her bedroom and lands neatly mere inches from Derek, sniffing obviously.

“Yup. And I’m not sharing them.”

She narrows his eyes and makes a move for them, which he only manages to duck away from because he has years and years of practice of Laura trying to take his stuff, darting quickly away and into the house.

Laura chases after him, tackling him down, because she’s still faster than him, and sitting on his stomach.

She bounces once, pressing down on his kidneys or somewhere equally as painful.

“So,” she says, taking a brownie out of the container and stuffing it in her mouth.

“He said no.”

Laura’s eyebrows climb to her hairline. “Again?”

“Again.”

She flicks his nose. “Why are you smiling about it, weirdo?”

Derek wrestles his way from under her and steals the brownies back.

“I still got to hang out with him.”

Laura sighs. “God you’re hopeless. It’s adorable. And disgusting,” she says and twists her nose slightly.

Derek huffs and turns to walk away and almost bumps into his littlest brother and _ohno_.

“Jamie,” he says.

“Big brother,” Jamie says back, blinking wide green eyes at him and letting them fall on the box of brownies, he turns a sweet smile on him. “Derek you know you’re my favorite brother, right?”

Derek sighs because, okay so here’s the deal, when Jamie was born and the doctors had announced another girl Derek had been a little miffed, but then when Jamie was about four or six and was adamant about being a boy Derek had promptly been wrapped around his little finger and that was that. Not that he hadn’t been before, it’s just that now there were two boys and two girls and water balloon fights were even more epic.

Yeah, basically, Derek’s a sucker for his younger brother and would punch a tree if he asked him to.

He willingly opens the container and lets Jamie take out two or three and dart away before Laura can steal them.

“That’s favoritism,” Laura shouts.

Derek huffs. “Please, Jamie is everyone’s favorite sibling.”

She opens her mouth, closes it, and then nods, conceding the point. All that before throwing herself across the kitchen island in an attempt to get the container.

«»

“Derek,” Aunt Lyris calls out just as he’s walking out the door. “Are you busy right now?”

“Yeah actually-“

“Great! So you don’t mind watching Ariah right?”

“I was actually-“

She trusts Derek’s cousin into his arms and smiles tiredly.

“We need to pick Akira up from summer camp and no one else would watch her, so please? For your favorite Aunt?” she tries.

Ariah blinks at Derek with her cute little brown eyes, tiny eyelashes touching her fair skin as she resolutely sucks on her thumb. Derek sighs and props her up on his hip.

“Fine.”

Aunt Lyris slumps in relief, a few strands of hair falling from her messy bun.

“Thanks sweetheart.” She kisses his forehead, and then her daughter’s. “If my dumbass brother did anything right it was you.”

“I heard that!” Derek’s father yells all the way from the greenroom.

“Good!” Aunt Lyris yells back.

“Ly, we’ve gotta go,” his Aunt’s wife calls out.

“Right. Right. See you later, baby,” she says, leaning over to kiss her daughter once more. “Mommy will be back later alright. Be good for cousin Derek can you do that?”

Ariah nods once, seriously.

“That’s my good girl,” she praises, kissing her once more and Derek sighs, eyeing the door.

She ruffles his hair, shouldering her bag quickly and skidding out the door.

Derek stands there for a couple of seconds just staring at the door before he looks over at his cousin.

Ariah curls one of her chubby hands on his shirt, twisting it and letting go as she sucks on her thumb.

“Guess it’s you and me today, uh?”

She just blinks.

He hears something crash from the top floor, followed by Charlie yelling and then, “Derek could you-“ Aunt Alexis starts calling out.

“Nope!” he yells and bolts out the door as fast as he can.

«»

“Where we?” Ariah whispers, eyeing the door, her cheek resting on Derek’s shoulder tiredly.

If he has to look after any of his cousins he’s glad it’s Ariah. She’s by far the calmest one of the bunch.

“Stiles’ house. We’re going to say hi. Do you want to be the one to knock?” he asks.

Ariah seems to consider this, little brows furrowing at the door, and then leaning forward and rasping her little knuckles against the wood before quickly retreating and clutching at Derek.

Stiles opens the door, opens his mouth, his eyes catch Ariah, and close it again, a smile spreading on his lips.

“You brought company?” He waves a little at Derek’s little cousin.

“No one else would take her,” he winces, wondering if Stiles is going to tell him to just come back tomorrow.

“Cool,” he says. “Let me get my keys we can go to the park or something. She would get bored here.”

Ariah perks up, lifting her head from where it had been hiding in Derek’s shoulder and even going so far as to take her thumb out of her mouth.

“Park!” she agrees.

Stiles beams, eyes crinkling and Derek might die a little bit.

“I’ll be just a second, okay?”

“Okay,” he says and makes a mental note to stop expecting Stiles to have certain attitudes when he knows that Stiles likes to throw curveballs, doing exactly the opposite of what Derek had been expecting.  

«»

They’re sitting on the green grass in a nearby park, Ariah between them, making a mess out of an ice cream cup.

Well, Derek’s sitting, keeping a careful eye on his cousin and seeing that she doesn’t suddenly run off after some dog, Stiles is laying down on the grass, eyes closed against the afternoon sun and humming softly under his breath some song that Derek faintly recognizes.

Derek’s trying to form rational thought while being presented with the picture that Stiles makes, all sun warm and stretched out, at reaching distance, his scent wafting off of him in waves, contentment and honey and sweat.

“Sticky,” Ariah complains, shoving her hand under Derek’s nose for him to clean up. He sighs and reaches in his discarded coat pocket for a tissue, swiping it through her hands and face.

“Better?” he asks, scrubbing at her cheek to clean a stray bit of pineapple ice cream.

“Better,” she declares and offers him a rare smile, going back to her ice cream.

When Derek leans back again Stiles is watching him through one half open eye, a contemplative look crossing his features.

“Hey,” Derek says, because he’s still an idiot. But then again he’s always been an idiot for Stiles.

“Hi,” Stiles says and presses his lips together, trying to suppress the way they try to curl into a smile.

Derek tries not to smile but he can practically feel how his eyes crease in the corners and he knows he has failed horribly at it.

“I have something for you,” Derek says and turns away, reaching back into his jacket.

“Oh gifts!” Stiles sits up a little, leaning on his elbow and twisting towards Derek. “Do you think you can buy my favor with material goods, Hale?”

Derek snorts and grabs the CD case where he had slip the scrap of paper that has been forgotten in his pocket.

He passes it over to Stiles, eyes intent on his face so he doesn’t miss a thing. Stiles’ reactions to a mixtape were always the best part of the mixtape giving business they had going on and it’s good to see that after all this time it’s still the same. Nothing’s changed, not really, not the important things.

Stiles still drops his mouth the tiniest bit open, his breath coming out in something that sounds like awe, eyes going wide with surprise before they crinkle and he smiles up at Derek.

“Mixtapes mean love,” Stiles says, quiet like he only gets with the really important stuff.

“Yeah,” Derek says because yeah, yes they do. That’s what they’ve always meant for them. And that’s what they still mean for Derek and he hopes that’s what they still mean for Stiles too.

“Derek’s an idiot MIX,” Stiles reads out, amusement lacing his voice. He opens up the CD case and yelps when the CD falls out to reveal another one underneath. Thankfully the slip of paper has been safely tucked under the little things that normally keep the album cover in place.

Stiles carefully picks up the fallen CD and looks at the other underneath.

“I’m sorry MIX,” he says and his mouth presses into a thin line. He lets out a sigh and puts the first CD on top of the other one. “Are you sorry for being an idiot?” he questions.

“That too,” Derek concedes.

“Idiot,” Ariah agrees, licking the cup then seeming to notice it makes for a great hat and plopping it on her head, getting her hair sticky with the leftover melted ice cream. Aunt Nadeshiko is going to _kill_ Derek.

Derek plops it off her head and tries his best to clean her hair with the tissue he has left. “Your hair is going to get sticky. You don’t like sticky, remember?”

“Wet and sticky is very icky,” she quotes dutifully.

“Sticky and wet makes mommy upset,” Derek finishes, wondering if he’ll have time to give her a quick bath before his aunts come back and give him their trademark disappointed mom faces.

Stiles makes a sound and Derek snaps his head to him, worried, until he sees Stiles clutching the slip of paper in his hand and staring at him and his little cousin.

“You’re making this very hard on me, you know?”

Derek opens his mouth to make the dick joke that that sentence begs for but then closes it again. This feels like important conversation, so instead he says, “What am I making hard?”

“This whole not forgiving and giving in to you right away deal. You are making it very hard on me, okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“ _I know_ ,” Stiles says sounding exasperated and a little upset. “I know. You’re sorry and you’re an idiot. You’re a sorry cute idiot that makes me mixtapes and saves old notes we passed in class because you’re a dork.” He huffs a little, looking back down at the little slip of paper, long fingers smoothing it carefully, trained on the tiny scrawled contained there.

“It’s not like I could throw that away,” Derek reasons because how could he throw their first _I love you_ s in the trash like that.

It had been so stupid and they had both agreed to a do-over but then again they have already established that Derek is a stupid teenager that’s hopefully growing into a smart adult and Stiles is just stupid enough to give Derek a chance so. So it’s only natural that the first time they had said I love you to each other had been stupid.

Just one of those things.

They were bantering during History class, slipping a note back and forward as stealthily as they could even though they weren’t in eight grade anymore, and Stiles had been doing something silly that had Derek suppressing laughter in the middle of class.

_You’re a terrible influence,_ Derek had written.

_Yeah but you love me,_ had been Stiles quick throw back as he passed the note with a smirk.

_I do for some stupid reason love you._

Stiles had gotten serious and Derek had been able to hear his heart tripping all over Stiles’ chest. It had taken Stiles passing the note back with _I love you too_ carefully written, instead of his messy careless scrawl for Derek to understand what had happened.

Now Stiles folds the paper back up and tucks it carefully inside the CD case, closing it and making sure it’s secure.

Stiles sighs and plops back down on the grass, one hand keeping the CD case tightly held against his chest.

“Hey Stiles,” Derek calls, going for broke. “Do you want to go on a date?”

Stiles is quiet for a minute too long before he says, “Ask me again tomorrow.”

Derek beams and has to suppress the need to fist pump or do a victory summersault or something equally as ridiculous because _that’s not a no_.

That’s not a no.

For the first time in weeks, it’s not a no.

“Ugh shut up,” Stiles says a smile lighting up his face and nose scrunching a little bit, eyes closed. “I can hear you being smug from here.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” he protests around his own smile.

Stiles opens his mouth to counter but suddenly Ariah yells “Puppy!” and it’s all they both can do to scramble up and chase after her.

«»

As per Stiles’ request he meets him in the front of the movie theater two days later, making the executive decision of detouring through 5th street and stop at the little flower shop his dad sometimes supplies flowers to, and gets the biggest most obnoxious flower he can find and buys it.

Stiles is waiting for him, a smile on his face that makes Derek quicken his pace.

“Hey so I was thinking we could something dif-“ Derek takes the flower from behind his back and taps Stiles in the nose with it once, breaking off his words.

Stiles goes cross-eyed for a couple of seconds, before he reaches for the offered flower with a laugh, spinning the stem between his fingers curiously.

“What is even this?”

“A flower,” Derek says and quirks his lips, smug as you please when Stiles huffs a little breath and rolls his eyes.

“I know _that_ , idiot. What kind of flower?”

“No idea,” he says honestly.

Stiles’ eyes crinkle. “You’re an idiot,” he says and shakes his head, voice unbearably fond. He offers Derek the flower back. “Come on, put it on me. Make me look like a pretty princess.”

“You’re already a pretty princess,” Derek says and tucks the flower behind Stiles’ ear.

Stiles reaches and touches the soft petals with the tips of his fingers, mouth going a little open as a breath passes through his lips in wonder.

“Thanks,” he says and looks down at the floor, contemplates the space between Derek’s flipflops and his converse.

“It was nothing,” he dismisses, because it wasn’t. If buying Stiles one silly flower for the rest of eternity is what he has to do to redeem himself then he’d happily and eagerly do it, even if just for the shyness that takes over Stiles when flowers or anything in the slightest bit romantic are involved.

“You’re a dork,” Stiles tells him and reaches for his hand, laces their fingers together and starts tugging Derek to the ticket booth. “A dork who’s going to regret being nice to me because guess what’s showing on this amazing theater for two days only.”

Derek peers up at the posters and groans. “No.”

“Yes,” Stiles cheers.

Derek considers punching through concrete to get out of this but then he feels the chapped softness of Stiles’ lips touching his cheekbone and his brain is too busy paying attention to that to consider the torture that a B Horror movie is going to be.

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun, I’ll let you make fun of everyone and tell the dramatic people to fuck off.”

Derek sighs. “I guess if we must.”

Stiles squeezes his hand. “We absolutely _must_. Didn’t you hear, Derek? For two days _only_. And this is the last day.”

Derek looks over at Stiles and briefly wonders if he’s allowed to do the cheek kissing thing too. Stiles’ moles look like they miss him from where he’s standing.

Maybe he’ll put it to the test when he walks Stiles home after the movie.

“You’re buying the candy,” Derek tells him and Stiles grins like Derek just did something spectacular.

Derek’s thinks his heart forgets how to work for a couple of seconds there.

«»

Derek steps out of the movie theater almost two hours later with Stiles’ hand still clasped in his and Stiles’ sweet happy scent clinging to him.

“Do you wanna go play video games and do dinner at mine?” Stiles asks, running his thumb over the back of Derek’s hand.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Sties smiles, the little pleased smile of his that he only gets when he’s accomplished something which-

Which is out of place in this situation. Because Stiles isn’t really doing anything extraordinary, he’s just asked Derek to the movies and to come over for videos games and for dinner with his fam-

_Ohmygod_.

Stiles asked him to the _movies_ , and to play _videogames_ and to _dinner._ _With his family_.

Stiles just asked him to do their Friday date routine.

They’re on a date.

_Derek_ is on a _date_ with _Stiles_.

He freezes, one foot coming down harshly on the pavement when the realization fully hits him.

“We’re on a date,” he says.

Stiles stops, turning with a slight frown. “Yeah?” He says slowly, eyes roving Derek’s face for a minute. “You seem surprised.”

“ _We’re on a date_ ,” he reiterates because Stiles doesn’t understand.

“Derek-“

“You didn’t say yes. I asked you yesterday and you told me to ask you today but you didn’t say yes.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Yeah I did.”

“What? I think I’d remember if you-“

Stiles takes a step closer and takes Derek’s phone out of his pocket, typing in the password to unlock it and opening up the messages before shoving the phone in Derek’s face.

_««Do you wanna do smth?_ Derek had sent.

_»»Yeah. Dfntly_

_««Cool. You pick._

_»»Movies?_

_««I’ll meet you there_

_»»It’s a date_

Derek opens his mouth, parts his lips and exhales something soft and stuttering. “I- I didn’t- I thought-“

Stiles withdraws the cellphone, sliding it smoothly into Derek’s back pocket, a smile quirking the corner of his lips.

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles tells him.

“We’re dating?” he asks and makes his voice as quiet as he can, stunned by the idea of it.

Stiles shrugs one shoulder and shuffles a little closer. “I mean, yeah. Starting to.”

“Oh,” he says like a total moron, like the speechless total moron Stile still manages to convert him into.

“You brought me a _flower_ Derek. Thought you knew it as a date.”

“I was being nice.”

“You were being sappy.”

Derek leans in carefully and slowly, gives Stiles plenty of time to pull back and when he doesn’t, he places a soft kiss high on his cheekbone, cheek touching the soft petals of the flower that’s still tucked over Stiles’ ear.

When he pulls back Stiles is beaming at him, something that crinkles his eyes and barely twists his mouth but warms Derek so much he feels like there’s molten lava in the center of his chest.

“You like sappy,” he says and probably smiles like an idiot.

Stiles hums and steps a little closer, bumps their noses together. “I like it when _you_ are sappy.” Another sway forward the touches the tips of their noses in an eskimo kiss. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“This isn’t a hundred percent resolved, Der. There’s still-“

“Yeah, yeah I know. We’ll work through it.”

“We’ll work through it,” Stiles repeats and it’s odd how on his lips it sounds like a promise, like a certainty almost.

Derek gives the tinniest of nods, and then angles his head and brushes their lips together and it’s so chaste it aches, but it feels so right, feels like something centers deep in the pit of his stomach like he’s spent too long with motion sickness and he can finally take a step without feeling like hurling all over the place.

Stiles’ lips almost buzz underneath his, a live current, live wonder just under his fingertips and Derek kisses him but he doesn’t kiss him hard or deep, he just kisses him tender. Kisses him like relief and like an apology and like everything he will say to him in the future, every promise and mistake and dream and secret. You don’t need to kiss hard or deep for that.

You just need to kiss with emotion and that’s what he does, pours himself on Stiles like a chipped cup spilling too much.

Stiles pulls back first to take a breath, eyelids fluttering like he’s just waking up before the whiskey of his eyes blink at Derek, a smile hidden in them.

“Idiot,” Stiles breathes and it sounds so fond, it’s perfect.

Derek smiles and leans over for another kiss because he’s an idiot. He’s always been an idiot for Stiles and he expects to continue being an idiot for as long as Stiles will have him.

Hopefully he’ll be a complete idiot forever.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this didn't disappoint anyone and that for a sequel it was good enough. well sequel is doing it a favor. it's more of a glorified epilogue.
> 
> if you ever need to yell at me about a sequel again do it on [my tumblr](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com) ^u^


End file.
